Mirenheart
First time out of the vault
This is a poem I made up a few years ago. Decided I might as well post it here. And yes, I do realize the Harold is a mutant, and not a ghoul.
He walked out of the Vault
Blinded by the sun
He looked around and thought,
“This won’t be fun.”
His task was simple
He couldn’t stop
He had to find a virus
Without spilling a drop
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He set off on a journey
Into the wasteland
He met many people
As he traveled the harsh plains
He helped many a person
And put others through pains
He met great obstacles
He had to fight through
He had to eat a man
Maybe even two
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He continued his journey
Through the Great Sand
As he went on through
He become well known
Suddenly one day
He left to the unknown
When he came back
He didn’t look real
He was covered in armor
From the Brotherhood of Steel
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He thought of his home
As he traveled the land
He saw many a thing
Much like rotten feet
And made a new friend
Whose name was Dogmeat
Dogmeat was loyal
He was great
He always took hits
It must have been fate
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He never looked back
He never was in demand
He saw strange things
One was a ghoul
His name was Harold
He seemed to drool
He had a tree in his head
That seemed to throb
He called it Herbert
But it was really Bob
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He went into awar
He didn’t take command
The Enclave appeared
With some fiendish plan
The brotherhood almost failed
They relied on one man
He took his pistol
And won the fight
But he had been hit
He died that night
And Dogmeat howled
As another master died
And again he set out
Into the land that’s dried
And the Vault did wither
It shriveled and crumbled
They cursed all war
As they were crushed by a rumble
And the people wonder
Usually with a buzz
Why these things happen…
.
Well, that’s because
.
.
War
.
.
War never changes
He walked out of the Vault
Blinded by the sun
He looked around and thought,
“This won’t be fun.”
His task was simple
He couldn’t stop
He had to find a virus
Without spilling a drop
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He set off on a journey
Into the wasteland
He met many people
As he traveled the harsh plains
He helped many a person
And put others through pains
He met great obstacles
He had to fight through
He had to eat a man
Maybe even two
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He continued his journey
Through the Great Sand
As he went on through
He become well known
Suddenly one day
He left to the unknown
When he came back
He didn’t look real
He was covered in armor
From the Brotherhood of Steel
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He thought of his home
As he traveled the land
He saw many a thing
Much like rotten feet
And made a new friend
Whose name was Dogmeat
Dogmeat was loyal
He was great
He always took hits
It must have been fate
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He never looked back
He never was in demand
He saw strange things
One was a ghoul
His name was Harold
He seemed to drool
He had a tree in his head
That seemed to throb
He called it Herbert
But it was really Bob
With a dog by his side
And a pistol in his hand
He went into awar
He didn’t take command
The Enclave appeared
With some fiendish plan
The brotherhood almost failed
They relied on one man
He took his pistol
And won the fight
But he had been hit
He died that night
And Dogmeat howled
As another master died
And again he set out
Into the land that’s dried
And the Vault did wither
It shriveled and crumbled
They cursed all war
As they were crushed by a rumble
And the people wonder
Usually with a buzz
Why these things happen…
.
Well, that’s because
.
.
War
.
.
War never changes